Page 78 of Fallen Creed

Over the phone, Libby had heard the fear and panic in Ariel’s voice. It reminded her so much of herself. Last winter, when she fled from Ruben, she had no one to turn to. No one she could trust. Would her kindness be her downfall? And did she really believe this strung-out, reckless girl could help her? Or had she allowed herself to be sucked into the vortex of Ariel’s desperation?

All Libby needed was an escape vehicle. Now she started worrying about the price she’d pay for that one simple thing.

She’d let herself get out of practice, out of the routine of being careful. Staying with Nora and Ted made her slip into a false sense of security. She’d become too comfortable. Too complacent. How silly of her to think she might actually live a normal life?

Ariel was a startling reminder of what she’d left behind. Of what she had escaped. How close had Libby come to being Ariel? She’d been so disciplined all her school years. When her father left, Libby honestly believed it was her fault, despite what her mother told her. Then, if it wasn’t Libby’s fault, it had to be her mom’s, right?

So many stupid head games. She let out her frustration on the soccer field. She buckled down and worked hard to get good grades. The good athlete, the good girl. Good enough to win her father’s praise.

Then he married someone else. He got too busy to come to her soccer games. He started having kids with his new wife. It was stupid. She was a teenager. Too old to be jealous of little kids, but she was. Because her mother had told her he didn’t want to be tied down. Obviously, that wasn’t true. He just didn’t want to be tied down to Libby and her mom.

She became what she loathed: a whiny rebel without a cause, immersed in her own pity party. Her mom told her she had too much time on her hands. Libby had graduated in December and wouldn’t leave for college until summer. She suggested Libby get a job.

That’s when her mom became a part of the problem, too.

Then, in three short months of childish rebellion, Libby took all her hard work and accomplishments and turned it all into crap. She accepted invitations to the drunken house parties she’d stayed away from throughout high school. Suddenly, she enjoyed the release and reckless abandon the alcohol helped her feel.

The first time she lied to her mother was easier than she expected. The downhill spiral happened so quickly. One day she was partying with a bunch of lame college-bound teenagers like herself. Then next, she was contemplating joining Ruben’s arrangement.

She had seen things she couldn’t unsee. Done things she couldn’t undo. All that blood streamed out into the bath water, sloshing over the rim and pooling on the floor. She didn’t stick around to see how Ruben and the others had gotten the stains out.

She could still conjure up the fear that had overwhelmed her in the days that followed. It shook her to her core, set her teeth chattering and her bones aching. Ruben would kill her.

She hid in her father’s backyard, up in the elaborate treehouse he’d built for his new kids. The cold rain kept them in the house for two days. None of them ventured out to the backyard.

Eventually, they all left for a few hours. She saw a slice of the luxury SUV driving away with four bobbing heads. She had been to her father’s house enough times to know where he kept a spare key. Knew him well enough to find the wad of cash he hid from his new wife. She told herself he owed her, but she had no justification for the clothes she stole from her stepmom. She wondered if the woman even noticed the few missing items from the bulging drawers and tightly packed closet.

She knew without a doubt that her life would never be the same. Forget the same. It would never be normal ever again. There was no going back.

“We could poison him,” Ariel’s voice brought Libby back to the trailer. Her idiotic proposal only proved Libby’s point. This was her life now where poisoning someone was discussed as an option for survival.

“He’s sitting right there,” Libby said without turning from the stove. Instead, she leaned into the steam of the chicken noodle soup. She was sacrificing two cans of her emergency stash to feed these two.

She reached up and brought down a bag of hard rolls, giving them a good look for any green. Satisfied, she pulled down a container of peanut butter. What she wouldn’t do to make everyone go away and leave her to her little trailer in the woods.

She could be happy here. Okay, maybe not happy, but content.

This place had become her peace and quiet, her refuge. Yes, she had a very nice room at Nora’s house. But here, she could relax without being under anyone’s scrutiny. She had cleaned and repaired and stocked it, little by little. This felt like home. There had been times at work that she caught herself longing for just a few hours here, an afternoon.

She had grown accustomed to the songbirds calling to each other throughout the treetops. On a clear day, she could hear train whistles in the distance. The rush of the river’s current sloshed along the bank, not more than a hundred feet away. Twice when she’d delivered supplies after dark, she’d heard a coyote howl. Maybe it was the same one she and Ariel had heard that morning. There was something primitive and unsettling about that sound.

Libby had spent all summer coming and going, but she’d never stayed overnight until now. Instead of feeling safe and isolated, she’d spent the dark hours listening for Ruben and jumping at every sound.

“Seriously,” Ariel said, startling Libby, appearing right next to her. Ariel kept her back to the table and attempted—without succeeding—to lower her voice for conspiratorial effect. “I mean, like really, how are we gonna get rid of him?”

—61—

Creed pinched one of the pills he’d stuffed inside his pockets. While the girls conspired with their backs turned to him, he could finally allow a grimace from the pain. He needed another Tramadol, but now he couldn’t remember if the pain med or the antibiotic was in his right or left pocket.

The side of his clean T-shirt was already damp despite the fresh dressing he’d applied just hours ago. Was it only hours ago or longer? The loss of blood made him slightly dizzy and disoriented. The smell of the soup triggered nausea.

He identified the pill as a painkiller and sneaked it into his mouth, casually washing it down with the lukewarm coffee. Just as casually, he moved his fingers to the bandaged wound and pressed against it, biting down so hard he thought for sure he’d crack a molar.

The girls didn’t notice. But Grace did. She was panting, standing on the bench beside him and tapping her nose against his arm. She could sense his pain, and the smell of his blood upset her.

He wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost, but he knew the risks of not stopping it. After a certain percentage, his body would start to compensate by constricting the blood vessels in his limbs as his heart lowered the amount it pumped outside the center of his body. Would it affect walking? Probably. Maybe even standing up. He noticed his breathing had already become more labored. Weakness and fatigue would set in, and there was a chance he’d go into shock.

He couldn’t afford to lose consciousness. Who knew what these two wolves, particularly Ariel, would do to him? Best-case scenario, they’d leave him to die. Worse case, Ariel would finish him. He didn’t mind that so much, except for Grace. He hated seeing her like this. She was panicked and hurting from her own injury. She wouldn’t leave his side even if they killed him.